


Breathe Again

by saraid



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraid/pseuds/saraid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it happens every month.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Again

It came once a month, every month, as if the calendar was marked for it across the state. Market day. Usually a day Clark enjoyed. When he was younger he’d been allowed to run around, Pete and Chloe beside him, wreaking minor havoc. With a few coins in his pocket he’d been able to splurge on Mrs. McGerety’s chocolate cookies or Mrs. Arlington’s fresh sour pickles. In the fall there would be squash for sale, and late calves, and caramel apples for fifty cents. There were always kids, everywhere, getting into mischief, but seldom serious enough that any parents were summoned.

The city people were always fun to watch. They dressed funny and talked funny and got really upset when they stepped into a pile of something the kids knew enough to avoid.

As he got older his parents made it clear that he was expected to work at the market. He carried the boxes, because it was so much easier for him, and he didn’t want his Dad to hurt himself. He helped customers and smiled shyly at the city girls that came with their parents and flirted with him, sometimes brazenly. Sometimes it embarrassed him.

He still had time to himself, though. His parents, maybe even more than others, recognized the necessity of this.

So today he’d unloaded everything and helped set up, then his dad had handed him a ten and his Mom had shooed him away.

Clark knew they were still worried about him. He’d nearly died, trapped in that sauna with those rocks. They had started to put it all together; it was pieces of the meteors that made him sick. Like he was allergic to them or something, only deadlier. Unfortunately, Smallville and the surrounding county was thick with the stuff. Like, there was this place in the western field that he couldn’t drive the tractor because it made him so sick. He thought maybe that was where he had crashed, but he’d never asked his folks. 

He didn’t like talking about it, not even when he had to.

Chloe was stuck at home with a cold and Pete was keeping her company, so he was on his own today. He hadn’t seen Lana and figured she was busy with her second attempt at employment; she’d started at the flower shop last week. This close to Thanksgiving, he knew they had to be busy. And Lana had to be better at that than she was at waitressing.

He got a caramel apple. They cost a buck-fifty now. The city folk were eating them up, literally. Clark wandered aimlessly. The market was bigger now than when he’d been a kid, and more serious. Money was tight for farmers, and ready cash hard to come by. He knew his parents would do well, as it was a relief to feel secure in that. His Dad discussed the finances with him every once in a while, on the assumption that Clark would one day take over, and so he knew what a juggling act it was. The loans, the grants, the requirements. The weather always posed the greatest threat.

Like today... Clark looked up, apple held in front of his mouth on its stick. If those clouds rolled in too early, the market would be rained out and the city folk would run away home, leaving the farmers with extra produce. They would have to sell it to the city grocery stores, where the price would be way lower and the quality compromised. Then the city people would buy their squash and pumpkins and berries in the store and pay more for stuff that wasn’t as good.

The thunderhead hovered on the horizon and he willed it to hold off. That was a power he could understand; to control the weather. He could do a lot of good with that. Sure, his strength was nice, but he had to spend more time hiding it than he did using it.

“Hey, Kent, a familiar voice called out, and Clark flinched, mashing the apple into his nose and getting caramel on his face.

“Darn it,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat as he tried to scrape the sticky stuff off with his free hand. Lex was standing across the way, at a booth selling quilts made by the women’s church groups.

 

He was grinning widely at Clark’s predicament.

“Shoot.” Clark was mortified. Lex always made him feel like such a child. When he wasn’t making him feel like someone clever and cool. He could never predict which way the other man’s mind would go. 

He went over, giving up and lifting his shirt to scrub at the caramel. 

“An attack apple. You don’t see those every day,” Lex relieved him of the treat, holding it well away from his own sweater-clad torso.

Clark wiped his face one last time, and paused, noting the way Lex was looking at him. 

Like he was the sweet and Lex was dying to eat him up.

Well.

It wasn’t like Clark hadn’t noticed before. All of his encounters with Lex had a touch of flirtation, a hint of interest other than friendship. He’d just never seen is so obvious before.

He pulled his shirt down and tugged it back into place, looking at the ground so he wouldn’t have to see the way Lex was looking at him. When he raised his head again the expression was gone, and there was only smiling affection evident.

Lex held out the apple.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite.” Clark took it. His fingers touched Lex’s. Lex stared at him for a moment.

Clark tossed the apple into the trashcan by the booth.

“I was thinking of buying one, for my room.” Lex nodded at the quilts. “I can’t decide, though. I like the ‘Wedding Ring’ pattern, but it seems a bit odd for a bachelor.”

 

The lady in the booth was helping someone else, a city couple that looked like they might buy two or three quilts. Of course, they were trying to get her to give them a discount.

The quilt Lex was interested in was pretty standard. Nice work, but nothing special. Clark looked over the booth and saw the one he was looking for; it was one his Mom had worked on. In a less traditional pattern, it looked like stained glass against a white background.

“I like that one better.” He pointed and Lex looked.

“This one?” He walked around to look at it more closely. “Martha Kent? Your mother did this one?”

“She and the quilter’s circle she belongs to.” Clark ducked his head. “But that’s not why I said I liked it better. 

“Yes, it’s more interesting.” Lex fingered the stitching.

“More your style.” Clark didn’t quite ask, but it seemed more like Lex to him. The pattern of the stained glass was abstract, in jewel colors of silk and velvet, the lines of black separating the panes thickly stitched.

“You think?” Lex gave him a look and Clark fought back a second blush. “You’re right.” Lex gave him a small, wry smile. “Guess I was trying to be someone else for a few minutes. The kind of guy that buys quilts in the ‘Wedding Ring’ pattern.”

“No reason you can’t be both,” Clark said, and then realized how it might sound. He hadn’t meant it as a money thing, he wasn’t saying that Lex could afford both, even though he could, of course... “How did the plant restructure go?”

“It took some convincing –“ Lex touched his cheek, for reasons Clark didn’t see, “but I convinced my father that it was the best way to go. My way.”

“He doesn’t give you a lot of rope, does he?”

“Not where business is concerned, no.” 

“Clark!” His mother’s voice called to him from a few yards away, where she was waving at him.

“Go on, I’ll catch up to you,” Lex assured him when he hesitated. Not that he didn’t want to go help his mother, but he wanted to talk to Lex, too. He didn’t understand why, but talking to Lex made him feel - good.

His parents didn’t understand *that*.

“Can you carry this box of books to the truck for me? I’m going to donate them to the children’s shelter.” His Mom pointed at the extra-large cardboard box sitting on the ground in front of the second-hand book stall. Clark bent and picked it up. He remembered to bend his knees, too. Not that he needed to protect his back, but everyone else didn’t need to know that. His Mom was thanking the man for giving her such a good deal and Clark waited patiently, watching Lex buy the stained-glass quilt.

“Clark, honey, go ahead and take that to the truck,” his Mom said, mildly scolding. Obediently he turned and walked off, with a last glance at Lex, who had the quilt in a plastic bag and was looking for him.

Lex caught up about the time he got to the truck. His dad looked at the box and shook his head, then looked at Lex and shook it again. Clark grinned at his exasperation while Lex offered a handshake his dad couldn’t politely refuse.

“Dad, Lex and I are gonna hang out. Do you need me back to load up the truck?”

His dad looked at the sky, studying it with a farmer’s eye. Clark did, too. He noticed that Lex looked at the ground.

“We’re pretty well cleaned out, son,” his dad answered, glancing at the booth. It was filled with mostly empty crates sitting on the trestle tables. “I can load up. Your mom and I were going to have dinner at the diner – you going to eat with us?”

Clark appreciated that his dad was leaving it up to him. His sixteenth birthday had brought a certain amount of freedom. Of course, no one knew how old he really was. He seemed to age at the same speed humans did - maybe a little faster. 

“I’ll just grab something later,” he answered, then felt suddenly unsure. “If that’s okay?”

“Just be home before midnight.” the look his dad gave him was challenging, and Clark realized he was expected to argue with the curfew. He never had before, though, and didn’t really want to now. For appearances sake he said:

“How about one?”

His dad grinned and his body language relaxed a bit.

“Twelve-thirty.”

“Okay.” Clark grinned wider. This was kind of fun, the negotiating part.

It wasn’t like he really intended to stay out that late, it was just the knowledge that he could. If he wanted to.

Lex stood quietly beside him.

“If you get in that boy’s car, you wear a seatbelt,” his dad said firmly. Then, to Lex: “If I hear about you driving like a lunatic, Clark won’t be allowed to spend time with you again.”

“Dad!” Clark flushed. Treated like a kid again. Independence didn’t last long around here.

“You have my word, Mr. Kent,” Lex said seriously.

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here before he changes his mind.” Clark would have grabbed Lex’s hand and dragged him away like he was Chloe, but as soon as he thought of it he knew it wouldn’t be right. Instead he slung an arm over Lex’s shoulders. Lex rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be steered away.

“Don’t be late, Clark! I mean it!” his dad yelled after them.

Clark let go of Lex when they got to the fence that marked the edge of the market square.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling young again. Too young, too tall, too different.

“It’s okay.” Lex rubbed at the back of his neck, the movement exaggerated, looking at Clark like he might laugh at him. “Your dad just cares about you.”

“Too much sometimes. I feel like I can’t breathe.” Clark stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and kicked at the dirt like a little kid.

“I know, “ Lex agreed with him. “With my dad it wasn’t because he cared, but he had to be sure I did things the way he wanted them done. NO breathing room at all.”

“Lots of air now.” Clark glanced at him, his head still lowered. Through his lashes he could see that Lex was smiling faintly.

“And time to breathe it.”

“You got anything to do?” Clark asked. He might have been premature, assuming Lex would want to hang with him. It wasn’t like Lex had asked or anything.

“Not a thing.” Lex shrugged.

“Not sure I believe that.” 

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” Lex clarified. “Reports to write, projections to go over. Work stuff. Not boring, but not breathing-friendly.”

 

“We’ve decided breathing is good?” Clark asked, just to see if he could get that little smile Lex sometimes gave him.

He did.

“Breathing is very good.”

As they talked they went through the fence, Clark holding the wires apart for Lex, who showed an agility not previously suspected. Safely on the other side, out of sight of the Mom and Dad, Clark waited to see if Lex was going to take the lead.

“I heard a joke the other day...” Lex began. He started walking and Clark fell into step, snickering as the dirty joke fell into place line by line, until he was laughing out loud even as he moaned because it was so disgusting.

“Farm life isn’t like that!” he protested. They came to the rural highway that led to his house and crossed it together, without discussion. He knew Lex’s car was back at the market. Wherever they walked, they would have to return for it eventually. 

“Not if the Secretary of Agriculture has anything to do with it, it won’t be,” Lex switched to a more serious topic. They walked across, the field, high with a late crop of fallow hay. “Family farms are in more danger now than they’ve ever been.”

“Yeah. Everyone talks about the romance of farm life, supporting family farms, but they seem to care more about the price of their food than feeding the farmers. If they all want mass-produced, chemically-treated produce, then they’re going to be happy, because without family farms that’s all that’s going to be available.” It wasn’t something he’d talked about with his Dad, but Clark had studied the issue, even written an article on it for the school paper.

“You have to admit that your place can’t produce things as cheaply as one of the big conglomerates,” Lex protested.

 

“If we didn’t have to deal with the government regulations we could...” They walked and talked. It was great to discuss it with someone his age, or close to it, someone that took his opinions seriously. 

Who took *him* seriously.

Time passed and the subject changed. When Clark’s stomach rumbled Lex pulled a couple of candy bars out of a pocket and handed them over, only slightly squashed. Clark was carrying the bag with the quilt in it, slung on his back like a pack. They should have left it behind, taken the time to put it in the car.

“I remember what it was like, always being hungry,” He laughed at Clark’s eagerness.

“I keep thinking I’ll outgrow it, but it never changes. My mom despairs.” The chocolate was slightly melted, warm from Lex’s body heat and that thought made it taste that much better. Clark tried not to think of where thoughts like that could lead.

He liked things the way they were and didn’t want to think about the way they could become. 

“I think I missed that, the whole Mom thing.” Lex wasn’t looking at him, but at the sky, which was growing ominously darker.

“I can’t imagine life without her.” Clark didn’t know if he should offer condolences or say something more. Then Lex looked at him, and his smile was sad, so Clark reached over and patted his shoulder awkwardly. “Everyone should have a Mom. Somebody to make you funny-shaped pancakes and tuck you in at night. She likes to sneak in my room in the middle of the night and watch me sleep. She thinks I don’t know, but I always wake up.”

TMI, dang it. He tried again. “I mean, Moms are special. But you must have had someone special to take care of you when you were little.”

 

“Mostly nannies that did as my father said. They were more interested in his money than in me.” Lex shrugged. “By the time I was ten I’d decided I’d rather do without than compete with them for his attention.”

Lex paused and looked up at the sky again. 

“In retrospect, that may have been a mistake,” he said.

“It’s going to start any minute now.” Clark looked at the sky with him. They were close enough that he could brush Lex’s shoulder with his own, but he didn’t do it. He was beginning to think that too much contact before thinking about things would be bad. As in, not entirely good, the way he’d thought it would be.

“We better go back.” Lex turned and started walking. Their path was clear in the tall hay, where they’d trampled it down.

“We’re a couple of miles from my house, if you don’t want to get wet.” Clark only now realized how far they had walked. “My dad could give you a ride back to your car.”

Lex hesitated.

“I couldn’t ask him to do that. I could call one of my assistants to get me.”

“You’re not going to be able to use the cell in this.” The wind was finally rising. Clark turned his face into it, the brisk coolness of a fall storm promising wonders to come.

“I – we need to find some cover,” Lex spoke more quickly than Clark had heard him before.

He liked thunderstorms. Couldn’t remember a time when he’d been afraid of them. Chloe hated them, always had. When she stayed the night, when they were little, they would build a fort in the den. With blankets thrown over chairs and hot chocolate and a flashlight, they had been safe and secure and she would forget about the storm outside, except when the thunder crashed really loud. Then she would grab onto Clark until it got quiet again.

 

Looking at Lex, Clark didn’t think he’d like being compared to an eight-year-old girl. From the paleness of his face, though, it was clear he was nervous about the storm. Maybe not actually frightened...

“There’s a house over that way,” Clark told him. “It should be warm enough until the storm’s over.” he tried to say it as matter-of-factly as possible. He didn’t want to embarrass his friend.

It seemed that, sometime during the afternoon; sometime during their conversation – they had become friends. Not just acquaintances, but really friends. The way Clark had hoped they could be. Lex was interesting and funny, though he was oddly prickly and defensive and his sarcasm could draw blood if you weren’t prepared for it. Not kind – Clark didn’t see how that word would ever apply, but not deliberately cruel, either.

Clark had the feeling that maybe Lex had never had many friends. Just people that were around him because of his family money.

They walked through the field, and Lex started going a little faster as the first roll of thunder rumbled in the distance. Clark moved to catch up and Lex went faster. Clark did, too – Lex broke into a run and the heavens opened up and poured rain down upon them. Clark started laughing, and Lex laughed with him as the old house came into view and they threw themselves onto the crumbling porch.

A board gave under Lex’ foot and Clark grabbed him by the arm until he caught his balance, keeping him upright.

“My hero,” Lex laughed again.

Thunder boomed almost directly above them and he turned before Clark could reply to the wisecrack. The door sagged crooked on its hinges and Lex pushed his way inside. He wrapped his arms around himself and went further in, to where it was dark and the walls felt close to Clark.

 

“What is this place?” Lex sat on an ancient, creaking sofa, sending up a cloud of dust and leaves. He got right back up again, swiping at the seat of his trousers with a hand, and went to find a spot on the floor, which was marginally cleaner.

“Some family farm that closed years ago. I remember, I was about seven when it happened. The bank foreclosed. My mom and dad came to help them pack up. Now the land just lies fallow, wasted.” Clark dredged the memory up reluctantly. This had been a small place, but he remembered the family that had lived here. They’d had a little boy, just a year or two older than he’d been. “The property is right next to ours. My dad would like to buy it, but there’s too much owed in back taxes.”

He had played with that little boy on long summer days. But he couldn’t remember his name.

“Et tu, Clark?” Lex gave him a shaky grin. He shivered, and Clark sat beside him, pushing the bag onto the floor.

“Lex, are you cold?” Clark wasn’t cold at all. They were both damp from the rain, but not soaked and the downpour wasn’t chilly. 

Thunder crashed above them and for a moment the room was lit like daytime. Lex cried out, an incoherent sound, and covered his head with his arms.

“Lex!” Worried now, reached for him, grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “Are you okay?”

More thunder and Clark was aware that Lex was shaking like a leaf under his fingers. He raised them to Lex’s face, to check for a temperature and found his skin icy-cold.

“You’re freezing.” it was awfully dirty on the floor, but his mother always said that things were made to be used, not just looked at. So Clark opened the bag and pulled out the folded quilt, wrapping it around his frightened friend, tucking it around his shoulders.

“Clark?” Lex looked at him. His eyes were wide with fear. “Is anything - is anything falling from the sky?”

 

“Falling -?” Of course! Clark silently cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. Lex had almost died in that meteor shower, he’d only been a little kid, of course he was afraid of thunderstorms. “I know it sounds like it, Lex, but, no, I promise. Nothing falling out of the sky except rain.” 

Slowly, unsure if it was okay to offer comfort to his friend this way, Clark pulled Lex closer, into a loose embrace. Lex came willingly, resting his head on Clark’s chest, clutching the blanket around himself.

Clark became aware that Lex was breathing hard, as if he’d been running for miles. He tightened his grip and pressed Lex’s head closer to him, fingers rubbing at the smooth skin on his head. It didn’t feel any different than skin on an arm or maybe belly would. Soft and supple, though cooler than Clark wanted it to be.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, shocked by how much Lex’s fear was affecting him. “You’re gonna be fine. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”

He kept whispering as the storm grew louder over them. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed and Clark wondered, for one glorious fraction of time, if he could stand outside in this and emerged unscathed.

His mother would have his hide if he tried.

Lex pressed into him like a puppy trying to hide under its mother.

The storm settled. The worst of it was over. 

Now there was just the rain and the occasional rumble of retreating thunder, and odd flashes of yellow from far-away lightning. 

Clark was still petting Lex’s head and whispering.

“I know you will,” Lex mumbled at last. He took a deep breath that Clark could feel against his chest, and seemed to relax, all at once. “You’re the taking-care-of kind, aren’t you, Kent?”

 

“I wouldn’t be making fun if I were in your position.” Clark stopped rubbing and just held the man loosely, his arms over Lex’s shoulders. He was warm beneath the quilt and Lex’s body and Lex wasn’t shivering anymore.

“I wasn’t.” Lex shifted, and tilted his head to look up. Though he was taller than him, Clark had never really thought of Lex as being smaller. Or even shorter. The force of his personality made him seem bigger. The arrogance added inches, the confidence lent an impression of bulk.

Their mouths were only a couple of inches apart. Clark thought that if this had been anyone else, he would have kissed them.

But it was Lex, and Lex was a guy, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Not only was Lex a guy, he’d never given any indication that he might be interested in Clark as more than friend. If Clark himself was interested, which he hadn’t even thought about.

The moment held. Finally, Lex shifted a bit. Clark expected him to move away, but he only half-turned in Clark’s embrace and settled more comfortably between his legs, his head moving to Clark’s shoulder, facing him. His knees were drawn up and laying on Clark’s thigh.

Clark’s arms were still around him.

Lex closed his eyes, and sighed.

“I guess you want to know what that was all about.”

“I pretty much figured it out,” Clark tried to raise his voice above a whisper, but only came out with a quiet murmur. “The meteor shower?”

Lex stiffened, and then relaxed again. Thunder rumbled, far away now, but he still flinched.

 

“I thought God was angry with me. The sky came down to get me and take me to him, like he took my mother,” his voice was a raspy whisper. “I ran as fast as I could, but it came for me. I fell down, and cried and no one came to save me.”

Guilt spread through Clark, cold and sick. He held Lex more tightly, wanting to offer comfort for the pain his arrival had caused.

“I would have saved you,” he said stupidly. “If I had been known you were there, I *would* have saved you.”

“The fire came and it went right over me.”

Lex freed a hand from the quilt and ran it over his head. He looked at Clark thoughtfully. “I remember; I realized I was still alive. And I cried harder, because I didn’t want to be.” He reached out and laid his palm on Clark’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “I wanted to go up to the sky with the lights.”

Only mildly shocked – and why wasn’t he more freaked out about this? – Clark leaned into the touch. When it seemed that Lex wasn’t going to say anything else, Clark turned his head and pressed his lips into the dry, warm, soft palm.

Lex gasped softly. Clark spoke with his lips still touching the skin that smelled of expensive lotion and rain.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Clark said, with as much firmness as he could. “I’m glad you stayed down here with the rest of us.”

“You’re a weird kid, Kent,” Lex gave him that small smile, and leaned up to kiss him.

Now beyond shocked, Clark could only lean down into it. Lex’s mouth pressed his, lips soft and damp, and he closed his eyes. He could smell Lex, and suddenly he needed to taste him.

 

“God,” Lex groaned when Clark opened his mouth and tried to inhale his tongue. Lex put a hand behind Clark’s head and tried to gently guide the kiss, meeting Clark’s eager thrusts with his own tongue. Clark trembled and held him tighter, only remembering at the last second that he couldn’t, that he mustn’t – he would hurt Lex if he held as tight as he could. He loosened the grip and opened his mouth wider to the kiss.

Lex turned all the way and got up on his knees, pressing their bodies together, forcing Clark back against the wall, his free hand on Clark’s chest, going unerringly to a nipple that hardened instantly.

“OH, God, Lex!” Stunned, Clark grabbed his waist and pushed his hands up under the cashmere sweater and T-shirt Lex wore beneath. He needed to touch skin, needed to feel Lex’s body on his. “Oh, please, more...” Fire was racing through him. This was nothing like the kisses he’d shared with Chloe when they were thirteen. This was a hurricane, with only he and Lex at the quiet center, the world spinning around them.

His hand went low, brushed Lex’s crotch, felt the distinct hardness there and Clark writhed on the floor, desperate to get closer to this man. This man’s body.

“Jesus Christ, Clark –“ Lex pulled his mouth away, strings of saliva connecting their lips. He held Clark back with a hand on his chin, trying to look in his eyes. His other hand was copying Clark’s, burrowing beneath the long sleeved cotton shirt he was wearing. It was tight, form-fitting. “Hang on, just – oh, God –“

Clark pushed Lex’s shirts up as high as he could and bent his head down. Lex didn’t really fight him on it, but let him. Clark closed his mouth over a hard, pebbled nipple and sucked gently. He liked the taste of Lex, liked the feel of his skin under his hands, wanted more of both.

 

“We should talk about this, maybe slow down, Clark -“ Lex was holding his head with both hands and ignoring his own words.. He slipped a knee between Clark’s legs and Clark moaned helplessly at the pressure on his swollen, aching dick. He’d never felt this way before, never wanted anything this badly. Eagerly, he kissed his way across Lex’s chest, stopping to lick the breastbone until Lex groaned with him, and then he was at the other nipple. His eyes were closed, but there was something different about the shape and then he tongued it and Lex grunted and Clark thought he was going to explode in his jeans.

Lex had a nipple ring. The metal was cold on Clark’s tongue but warming fast. He tugged at it and Lex thrust his hips, searching for contact; Clark leaned forward until he felt Lex’s cock on his stomach, and then went to work on the nipple and the ring, Lex hanging on for the ride.

Fascinated, Clark worked the ring every way he could think of, registering which movements made Lex make which sound. Lex was pressing his knee rhythmically into Clark’s crotch and he was humping it, the need growing stronger in him with every passing minute.

Lex groaned his name over and over and Clark was mystified to imagine how anyone could think this was a bad thing. It felt so good, Lex tasted *so* good, he wanted more of him, all of him...

“Clark!” Lex was panting, trying to pull his head away. “Clark, stop, I’m too close, stop, Jesus, Kent –“

Letting himself be distracted for just a minute, Clark looked up at Lex and licked his lips and grinned.

“Too close to what, Luthor? Gonna lose it in those nice pants?” he’d never talked like that to anyone, ever in his life. 

“Yes, if you don’t give me a minute to breathe!” Lex reached down and mashed his hand very firmly against Clark’s constrained cock. Clark thrust into it helplessly and Lex laughed softly. “This is going to be great, Clark, really, but you’ve got to slow down and enjoy it.”

“I *was* enjoying it,” Clark hissed, but he didn’t object when Lex moved back just a little bit. His friend grabbed the bottom of both his shirts and started to pull them off over his head. A bit of light flashed from the outside and the nipple ring gleamed brightly in it.

 

Clark leaned forward and closed his mouth over the whole thing and suckled tenderly.

“Shit.” Lex grabbed his head again and rocked back toward him, shirts still on. 

“What were you saying?” Clark teased, letting his hands slide around Lex’s waist and play with the waistband of his trousers.

“Not a damned thing. You keep doing exactly what you’re doing.” Lex smiled at him. It was an honest, happy, open smile. Clark returned it. It felt like his heart swelled in his chest and his lungs ached because he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

The moment was crystal-clear and perfect. It was broken by the insistent shrill of a cell phone.

“Damn!” Lex scrabbled at his pants. Clark thought about reaching into the pocket himself, but wasn’t ready to go that far, despite what had happened so far. Lex managed to get the phone out of the pocket and flip it open, spitting a greeting. “Hello! What?”

He listened for a minute and then blushed faintly. Clark watched as it traveled up his head, past his eyebrows and snickered to see that it went over the top, too.

“We’re fine, Mr. Kent, sir. Yes, he’s right here.” Lex handed the phone to Clark, who froze with terror, and then, reluctantly, took it.

“Dad?”

“Son, where are you? That storm was pretty bad, there was a tornado warning out. Your mother was scared sick.” His dad sounded more mad than worried, though. It wasn’t like he’d been in any actual danger, but he couldn’t talk about that in front of Lex. Maybe someday.

“We were out walking. It caught us by surprise, so we ducked into the old Ferguson place.” that had been the name of that family. And his friend, the little boy, had been called Richie.

“So you’re both okay?”

“We got a little wet, but we’re fine.”

“The fields are soup. I’m going to come and get you both.”

Clark looked at Lex. His dad was only a few minutes away on the old dirt road.

They wouldn’t have time to finish this.

Talking to his dad had kind of cooled him off, anyhow.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll be here.”

“I’m getting in the truck right now.” His dad hung up without saying goodbye. He was more upset than Clark had realized.

Clark handed the phone back to Lex.

“He’s coming to get us.”

“Damn.” Lex looked angry and wistful. “I was having a really good time, too.”

“I should hope so.” Without thinking about it, Clark lifted Lex and moved the other man off him. He stood, straightening his clothes and shaking the dust off.

Lex stared up at him, bemused, and Clark offered him a hand up.

“I hope you don’t want to talk about this too much,“ Lex said. His expression was such a mixture of tenderness and lust that Clark grinned again. He leaned down and kissed the nipple ring, very gently, then put Lex’s shirts to rights.

“I think talking about it would spoil it. You know?”

 

“I know exactly.” Lex gathered up the quilt and shook it, hard. Dust flew and he sneezed. He handed an end to Clark and together they folded it, meeting in the middle.

Lex touched his cheek again, and Clark kissed his palm.

“Maybe we could – you know, do this again sometime?”

“You’re way too young for me, Kent.” Lex’s face settled into a more familiar pattern of arrogance and intelligent cynicism. Clark wished for the openness to come back.

“You didn’t think so twenty minutes ago,” he pointed out with a shrug.

“I could blame it on circumstances,” Lex was teasing him now, and Clark smiled, relieved that he recognized it.

“Or you could just kiss me goodnight.” he leaned down and waited.

Lex put a hand behind his neck, gripping hard, and did kiss him, with the open-mouthed hunger Clark had never experienced before this. It made his whole body ache for more. When Lex let him go he groaned and shook his head. 

“Wow.”

He looked at Lex, and Lex just looked back. Then he turned and picked up the bag, stuffing the quilt back into it.

“I hope my maid can get this clean again. It’s going to be special to me from now on.”

He glanced at Clark and smirked.

“Because your mother made it, of course.”

“Jerk.” Clark slapped him gently on the shoulder.

They both heard the truck pull up, and the horn honk. It was still raining, a soft, cool fall of magic.

At the door, Clark waved to his dad, then looked at Lex.

“We have to do this again. At least once,” he said, right before they ran out into the rain.

“We do?” Lex was still teasing him.

“You have to tell me the story about that bit of jewelry.” Clark trotted out, leaving Lex staring after him for a second.

 

Clark’s dad drove Lex back to his car. Their legs pressed tight together all the way there. 

Then he lectured Clark all the way home about responsibility and not scaring his mother and letting them know where he was and how, though Lex was undoubtedly a nice enough person, he needed to stick with friends his own age.

Clark scarcely heard any of it.

He just grinned as quietly as he could, and kept breathing.

 

~~~end~~~


End file.
